I scrambled to make sense of it all, my mind a haze of broken recollections and half-truths.
I struggled to retain everything, to remember who I had once been.
After drinking a vial of medicine, a bitter concoction meant for memory recovery, the fog began to fade.
Fragments returned, though I wished they hadn't.
I had only been here for a few days, arriving on the newly formed holiday that marked the king and queen's salvation of the kingdom.
A day now called Lovers Day, a celebration of our supposed eternal bond.
It was a day for joy, for hope, for light.
The day when I eradicated all dragons from this world. How ironic. I doubted anyone truly understood what that meant.
I had not merely slain the dragons, I had erased the concept of them.
Entire lineages, histories, metaphors, all gone because I deemed it necessary.
And still, they celebrated me.
The world believed I had died, or fled in grief.
Perhaps I did both. I had left my kingdom behind. Worse, I had left my children. Again. Always again.
When I opened my eyes, Cassio was there, pouring me a glass of milk as sunlight filtered through the drapes.
My body felt younger, perhaps twenty-seven at most, but she was sixteen now.
Time had slipped through my hands like sand through a dying flame.
"Daddy, I'm so glad you're back," she said softly. "The kingdom, no, the world, has been terrible since you left."
Her voice cracked near the end, but she smiled anyway.
I took the cup from her hands, my gaze heavy on her face. "You've grown to be beautiful," I said, and it hurt to mean it.
She smiled, bright and broken.
"Daddy, don't be too sad. Miraculum isn't here right now. He's been running the kingdom with Malachi and Kivana."
I glanced down at the empty vials scattered beside my bed. It made sense. My son despised me.
Even in my weakened state, I could feel it, his hatred, sharp and cold as a blade I'd forged myself. Still, it hurt.
"I see," I muttered. "Where is Kivana? I haven't seen her at all. Usually, when she sees me, she's—"
Cassio interrupted with a bright grin. "Ah! She's pregnant. Daddy, Malachi came by to help, but she's staying home."
I froze. Happiness and dread coiled together in my chest.
This was the future I had always known must arrive. Which meant my actions now were bound by Set Time.
That must have been the third event, the one written before all others.
"What of the prophecy?" I asked quietly. "Don't tell me it was false."
Cassio sighed. "Truthfully, the world leaders are dealing with demons and monsters. And Fertical's war with Dangu hasn't ended."
My eyes widened. "They're still at war?" I murmured. "No, that makes sense. I could feel death lingering in the air."
Looking at her, I could see it even clearer. She had inherited death itself from me, a gift she never asked for.
I finished the milk, setting the cup aside. "Daddy, where were you?" she asked, her tone trembling.
"I was mourning," I said, the words barely audible. "In a place I named Paradise."
Cassio's eyes welled with tears. "You vanished," she whispered. "You took Mommy's body and disappeared. I was so scared."
She had grown so composed that I had forgotten, she was still a child.
A frightened child with no guide and no mother. I reached out, my voice soft. "Come, little one. Give me a hug. I feel… bad."
She obeyed without hesitation, wrapping her arms around me. She was warm, fragile, small, and undeserving of a father like me.
[You are a terrible person, leaving those who love you the most, a terrible person you are.]
Once, that voice referred to me as Nicholas. Then as you. Then as I. Now it was both and neither.
The Narrator was no longer apart from me. It was something deeper, something closer.
Still, for the first time, I cast it away, if only for a heartbeat.
I whispered a vow into my daughter's ear, a secret only she and I would ever know.
When the voice returned, it was quieter.
[Casting himself away, Nicholas had realized… The voice is me.]
But I couldn't dwell on it. Too much had shifted. My powers were sealed within the Haze most of them at least.
The rest were bound within the Canvas.
That meant I was living a half-life, stripped of freedom, shackled by divine law.
I held Cassio tighter, knowing Heaven would move soon.
It always did. And this time, I would be in its way.
Perhaps that was justice. I deserved their wrath. But not my children.
He would not take them from me.
I would train them. My two children, who should never have known the weight of a sword.
They would surpass me. They would become stars bright enough to burn away my failures.
"Cassio," I said, my voice low. "Call your brother."
She nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Yes, Daddy. I can do that."
A flicker of silver light filled the room, and Miraculum appeared, wearing the royal brand and holding my sword, the blade I had forsaken long ago.
It suited him now, not me.
"Father. Sister." His tone was calm, his face a perfect mask. "What is it you've called me for?"
He looked every bit the king he was becoming, steady, unmoved.
But behind his composure, I saw the same sorrow that had haunted me.
I remembered him crying over his mother's death as if it were only moments ago.
To me, it was. To him, it had been years.
"I'm sure you both have felt it," I began, my words heavy.
"The eyes of those who once knew me, watching, judging. But truthfully, I've grown tired."
They stiffened. Cassio stepped back, summoning Silver Mercy as an aura of death rippled from me, unbidden.
Time and space faltered, both falling asleep under my despair.
The concepts themselves rested uneasily.
"I no longer wish to raise my sword," I said softly. "Because in the end, all I ever bring is The End. So you must take my mantle."
Their guard fell. Miraculum spoke first, his voice sharp and restrained. "Father, am I to take this as you refusing to aid us in the coming threats?"
I closed my hand, cutting the connection between worlds. No gaze could now pierce Anstalionah. The kingdom was quiet, as if holding its breath.
"As long as I remain here," I said, "it cannot fall. So this will be my punishment. I shall remain stationary."
They both seemed to understand, as if bound by something older than choice, something etched into their blood.
In unison, they spoke. "We understand. We shall do our best to live up to your efforts."
I smiled faintly, a ghost remembering warmth, the kind that once felt real before time stripped it away.
Miraculum approached and rested his head against my chest. "You're a lazy fool, Father," he said softly, "but I can't help but love you."
I placed a hand on his head, brushing through his hair as if afraid he would fade.
"Remain stoic, Miraculum, because if you do not, you might cry."
Cassio smiled at the sight, her voice bright and fragile all at once. "Daddy! Miraculum definitely would cry if he wasn't hiding his emotions!"
Miraculum struggled to free himself, his ears red. "Damn it, you're both ruining the moment!"
I laughed quietly, the sound hollow, and looked toward the ceiling as if to find light there.
"Your mother is dead," I said, my tone calm and cruelly certain, "and she shall not rest forever."
They both froze, confusion shadowing their faces. Even Miraculum, so composed, wavered.
He spoke softly. "You met her? Can you commune with the dead, Father?"
I chuckled faintly and forced a smile. "Hmm, no. Call it the rambling of a dying cat who has lost its ball of yarn."
Miraculum scoffed, but there was pain beneath it. "Comparing my dear mother to a ball of yarn?"
Cassio clung to my arm tightly, trembling. "You must be delusional, Daddy! You aren't dying!"
I thought for a moment, then nodded as if humoring her.
"You're right. However, I must ask you both a terrible favor upon this realization."
They paused, sharing a cautious glance, before turning back to me.
"I need to see my elder sister," I said quietly. "Please tell her to come to me."
Miraculum straightened, his tone solemn. "I shall send her your way, Father."
They both bowed and left in silence, their figures fading like ghosts at the edge of a dream.
The room grew still again, filled only with the sound of my heartbeat, slow, irregular, tired.
I waited. I could feel her presence long before the doors opened, that familiar weight of old divinity pressing against the air.
When the doors finally did, she entered without a word, her steps measured, her eyes hollow.
Wearing that damned outfit and carrying a silver platter, she walked as if she were still bound by duty, as if her soul had long been shackled to obedience.
"My great shining monarch who wields the darkness," she said softly, bowing her head. "You have summoned me."
I sat upright, the throne creaking under me, and waved my hand, sending the platter from her grasp.
"Give me a hug, elder sister," I said. "I missed you."
Her mask cracked. For a heartbeat, she simply stared, then ran forward and threw her arms around me.
"Little brother," she cried, clutching me tightly, "why did you leave this world? Why did you leave me?"